


unscrew the stars

by espressohno



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Friends With Benefits, Idiots, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26861701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espressohno/pseuds/espressohno
Summary: “How about you dance with me, Dr. McCoy?” Jim asked, just loud enough that Leonard couldn’t pretend he’d only imagined those words coming out of his mouth.He wanted to laugh it off; he couldn’t seem to do that either.“Why me?”also known as The Loophole AU
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 23
Kudos: 132





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> hey so, i know you guys were probably expecting another trektober from me this year and i swear i was about to do it but something just didn't feel right, and i've had this WIP in my drive since last october, and i decided to work on this instead. sooo instead of daily prompts, i've decided to just flesh out the most popular prompt fills from last year, because there were some good ones in there. 
> 
> fear not! if you want a short sweet sexy prompt from me, requests are still open under my fic "it takes a village", so you can comment there if you want to see something specific :^)
> 
> now without further ado....the long awaited extended loophole au

Jim was getting more beautiful every day. 

Well, that wasn’t exactly it. Jim was always beautiful. Leonard had never been afraid to admit this out loud, even, calling him names like  _ pretty boy _ , sometimes as a joke and sometimes just to see the way Jim would flush and laugh and look down at his feet (although Leonard didn’t know, back then, that this is why he kept calling him that). 

Maybe Leonard was just paying more attention all of a sudden. That had to be what was going on. Every day he noticed something new about the way the blinking lights on the bridge fell across the planes of his face, about the way he walked, about the sound of his voice, clear and commanding on shipwide announcements and then casual, intimate, across the couch in Jim’s quarters. 

It was one of the reasons he had really been looking forward to this impromptu pit stop Jim decided to make at the colony on Vega, so the crew could let off some steam after a good nine months without shore leave. Leonard had been ready to find somewhere quiet--somewhere with non-replicated liquor, even--and forget about Jim’s eyes and his face and his easy smiles, at least for the night. He needed a break. Without the ability to throw himself into his work to cover up all the  _ Jim _ in his brain, he needed to sit down and figure out what it all meant, and why it seemed to be getting worse. 

He didn’t get his night of reflection on Vega. Somehow, he ended up in the exact opposite scenario. Blame it on those exact eyes that reflected the damn stars and made it impossible to say no, that smile that broke across Jim’s face and all but pulled Leonard into the bar with him like the man was producing his own gravity. And now Leonard was in some sort of a dance hall, where it was _ not _ quiet, and the drinks didn’t taste right, and the worst part was that he couldn’t even find it in him to complain, or to wish he’d wandered off alone somewhere like he’d planned. Not with the way Jim spent the entire evening by his side. Leonard would have followed him into a fucking karaoke bar--hell, he would have gone underground into the mines underneath their feet--if it meant getting this kind of undivided attention. 

It was one thing when they were hanging out in his or Jim’s quarters at the end of a long shift, too exhausted to do anything but sit there, sometimes without even talking. But this bar was packed, and people everywhere were dancing--young, good-looking people who were probably already staring at Jim at the bar and wishing he’d come over. 

For some reason, Jim didn’t go and talk to anyone. He hardly looked at anyone, even. Leonard decided he’d rather not question it. He just sat and listened to Jim talk about his draft of the latest mission report, his issues regarding culturally-sensitive word choice for a species which refused to apply for the UFP after Jim denied their request to  _ purchase _ some of their crew members. Distantly, Leonard felt himself laughing at the subtle attitude in Jim’s voice, his utterly dry tone as he listed off some of the more Prime-Directive sounding sentences he’d come up with. And then they were just laughing, drinking brightly-colored ridiculously-named cocktails and it was like Leonard was the only person Jim knew in this bar, the way he didn’t even bother letting his eyes wander around the room. Leonard stared down at his drink in his hand until the vibrating of his heart died down again. 

“Ugh,” Jim groaned finally, rubbing his eyes and presumably dropping the subject of the UFP altogether. 

“What’s wrong with you,” Leonard asked. There was an unspoken  _ this time _ at the end which made Jim smile a little bit in the way that caused his nose to scrunch up. 

“I wanna dance,” he said. 

Leonard waited for Jim to reveal that this is some sort of punchline. He looked serious. 

“Well? Go dance.”

“Can’t.”

“Never stopped you before,” Leonard said into his glass, but he could tell Jim heard it because he snorted and rolled his eyes and shook his head. Leonard finished his drink. 

“That’s not what I meant, asshole,” he said, without even his normal amount of passive aggressive-ness. “I mean I’m not  _ allowed _ to dance.”

It must have shown on his face that Leonard didn’t get what he was talking about at all. Jim held his gaze for a few more seconds, something completely unreadable in his expression, and then dragged a hand through his hair and looked out, finally, at the dance floor around them. 

“Starfleet regs are pretty strict about fraternization,” he explained, sounding resigned, “For good reason, obviously. Doesn’t mean being Captain isn’t a lonely job sometimes.”

Leonard chewed at his bottom lip while he watched that faraway expression on Jim’s face. It wasn’t like they  _ didn’t _ ever talk about this stuff. They talked about everything. Being Jim Kirk’s best friend basically required that all conversation topics had to be fair game, from R-rated to downright gross. It just had been awhile since either of them admitted to what was going on in their love lives. Almost since the first time Leonard had caught Jim’s eye across the bridge one shift and felt the weight of those few seconds of eye contact on his chest for the rest of the day. Maybe he’d been subconsciously steering them away from this kind of conversation ever since, because of those few seconds. 

He tried his best to be the supportive friend he was supposed to be. 

“There’s gotta be people in here who are from the colony. Not that the lighting’s good enough to tell the difference anyway.”

Not as supportive as he would have been a year or two ago, probably, but passable. Jim turned his head to the side and seemed to study Leonard for a moment. Leonard wanted to look away, order another drink, sweep his eyes across the bar and find someone for Jim to dance with. But he couldn’t. He felt like he was waiting for something, and he didn’t know what. 

“How about you dance with me, Dr. McCoy?” Jim asked, just loud enough that Leonard couldn’t pretend he’d only imagined those words coming out of his mouth. 

He wanted to laugh it off; he couldn’t seem to do that either.

“Why me?” 

“You’re my CMO. The only person on the ship with the authority to declare me unfit for duty. I think that counts as a loophole.”

Leonard was able to laugh, then, softly on his next breath. He almost felt like he should be flattered, or embarrassed, except that Jim's words had basically amounted to  _ you’re the only person I can legally dance with _ . 

“I think you’re taking the rules a little more seriously than most people do. I’m sure anyone here would be happy to dance with you for the night.”

“So dance with me,” he said. 

Leonard couldn’t say no. He couldn’t even  _ think _ the word no when Jim’s hand curled around his arm and pulled him off the bar and into the crowded dance floor. 

It wasn’t like they were pressed up against each other, or anything. Mostly they just swayed to the music, careful not to bump elbows with the people around them. Jim smiled so wide whenever their eyes met that Leonard literally had no fucking  _ choice  _ not to start enjoying it. They danced like they used to during weekends at the Academy, when they were younger, and they drank more, and their course load left them too strung out to be embarrassed. 

Anyone who didn’t bother to get to know Jim in the Academy would say that he was a completely different person now. In fact, Leonard had  _ heard _ people say this. It wasn’t true at all. 

That impulsive bastard who’d joined Starfleet on a dare when he was 22 and bored had everything in him to become the capable, admirable Captain he was today. Leonard had seen it before they even became friends, really. Maybe that was what drew him to Jim in the first place, when he was in a shitstorm of his own. Jim was smart, and kind, and thoughtful, and his heart was big enough to hold the entire universe inside of it. He was always this way. Only now, he didn’t try to hide it underneath sarcastic grins and scraped knuckles. Somehow Leonard didn’t mind at all that the soft, kind parts of Jim weren’t only  _ his _ anymore.

And here was Jim, tonight, inches away, laughing and dancing like he used to years ago, simultaneously reminding Leonard of who he used to be and showing him who he’s become, and Leonard had this sinking feeling that he was irreversibly in love with his best friend. 

Then Jim smiled again, wide and a little bit goofy, and took Leonard’s hand in his own to jokingly twirl himself around. He finally stopped twirling, letting Leonard’s arm wind around his torso, and looked into his eyes underneath the dim, changing lights of the dance floor.

“Kiss me,” Jim whispered, face so close to Leonard’s now that his breath tickled Leonard’s cheek. 

Maybe Jim was lonely. And tired. And he’d had too many of those frilly cocktails which were all named after stars and moons. Maybe it was just because he cared about being Captain more than he’d ever care about actually finding someone, because Leonard was his loophole, because Leonard was there and he had his arm around Jim’s waist. Maybe this would mean nothing to Jim. 

Leonard figured he could let his future self worry about all that shit. 

Jim’s lips were warm and sweet from liquor and Leonard could feel the shape of his smile as he kissed him, the rise and fall of his chest where he stood pressed against Leonard’s body, the trail of his hand as he felt for Leonard’s hip and held tighter. 

And Jim leaned into the kiss, and opened his mouth to Leonard and slid his hand around to the small of his back and Leonard wondered if this could really go wrong. And there was a voice in the back of his head which pushed through the music and the lights and the cocktails and the press of Jim’s lips and said  _ yes, absolutely, yes, this could go so fucking wrong, _ but Jim pulled back a second later. Leonard felt the intensity of his gaze pulling at his chest, just like that first time, months ago. 

Everything that came next, it was like it was  _ happening _ to Leonard, even the moments when he was definitely making a choice--choosing to lean forward and kiss Jim again, right there on the dance floor where anyone could see them, choosing to follow him out into the cool night air, and then, when Jim materialized next to him on the transporter pad and looked at him with this shy, private smile that Leonard had never seen before, choosing to follow him back to his quarters, too. 

Obviously this wasn’t the first time Leonard had been in Jim’s quarter’s--or the first time he’d been in Jim’s quarters and thought about doing this. They would pass an evening together that felt completely normal, and then all of a sudden he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it, from seeing Jim sprawled out on the other side of the couch in his slacks and his undershirt, mumbling about how much he needed a night off, and imagining what could come next, in some other universe. Closing that distance between them on the couch, settling on top of Jim, between his legs, sliding the tight black undershirt up his chest, kissing him--

This was a bad idea. This was a really,  _ really _ bad idea, because Leonard was in love with his best friend, and he would do anything for him,  _ anything _ , even this, even on a night like this when he knew that for Jim it probably meant nothing. Jim who complained just thirty minutes ago that he couldn’t get a date. For all Leonard knew, this was all part of that loophole comment, part of the fact that Jim didn’t have a better option. Somehow all of those thoughts flew through Leonard’s head when the doors to Jim’s quarters opened and Jim pulled him the rest of the way inside, still smiling, and he didn’t care. 

He blamed it on those cocktails and the adrenaline left in his veins from dancing with Jim in the middle of the crowded dance floor and kissing him in the bar, and in the street outside of the bar, and in the turbolift on the way to Jim’s quarters. He blamed it on the way his breath caught in his throat when he saw Jim tug his shirt off, even though he’d seen the same thing hundreds of times, but Jim had never done it  _ for _ him before--he blamed all that for why he didn’t put a stop to anything. 

Jim took his hand and led him past the couch, straight to his bed. 

He wiggled out of his jeans, down to his Starfleet-issued boxer briefs, not even bothering to make the act look sexy, but it  _ was  _ sexy. It was sexy because it was Jim. He fell backwards into bed, pulling Leonard on top of him and laughing loose and easy when they landed. Leonard couldn’t stop himself from smiling down at Jim, couldn’t stop the way his chest tightened at the sight of Jim laughing underneath him like that. There was something about the laughter, the careless way he undressed and plopped onto the bed, that felt more intimate than any of Leonard’s other encounters. There was no performance, no act, just the two of them piled on top of each other. 

He cleared his throat before he said something stupid. 

“You’ve actually read the Starfleet regs start to finish?” he asked. 

Jim squinted up at him, looking like this was the last thing he expected Leonard to ask about and also like he might start laughing over it again. 

“Maybe.”

Leonard raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay, I’ve read the ones on fraternization, at least. And what we’re doing is totally in a grey area. So basically it’s fine. So like, you can take your clothes off now, if you want.”

Oh yeah, Leonard still hadn’t taken anything off, even his shoes. He toed those off easily, and then sat up to get his jacket and shirt off except for some reason his instincts waited to kick in until that exact moment and he paused, jacket halfway off his shoulders. 

This was a bad idea. 

And then Jim’s hands were sliding up his thighs, over his pants, more gentle and soothing than suggestive, and Leonard remembered what was happening, remembered that he was straddling his best friend right now as a prelude to hooking up with him. 

Wait. 

_ What? _

Jim’s voice didn’t help. “Relax, Bones, I’m not going to kick you off the ship for having sex with the Captain. If anything, you might be entitled to certain benefits.”

Leonard snorted. 

“You are  _ exactly _ the reason Starfleet has regulations against fraternizing.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Jim smiled, pushed himself up the bed so he could sit up again and help Leonard out of his jacket, and then pull his shirt over his head. He was basically doing all of the work, because Leonard could only have that thought, again, about how much he wanted to give Jim a  _ real _ compliment. He wanted to tell Jim how perfect he looked like this, still flushed from dancing, hair a little messy from running his fingers through it, lips red and swollen from all the kissing. Finally his shirt was off and Jim pulled him forward with a hand around the back of his neck and brought their mouths together again. 

Jim wasn’t what he expected, or maybe he was. The majority of rumors that spread around about him always painted him as some sort of dynamite lay, like the kind of hookup that becomes a point of comparison for all other hookups, although Leonard never really believed that. Not when he knew what Jim was like in private, after hours, relaxing in his quarters, real and imperfect and kind of a dork. 

That was how he kissed Leonard, now, and Leonard still felt like he was better than anyone who came before him. Even when he missed Leonard’s mouth because he was trying to kiss him and negotiate his pants off at the same time, when he laughed afterwards and kissed him again, on his cheek, his nose, his cupid’s bow, and rolled them over in bed. Their legs tangled and their foreheads bonked together and Jim accidentally bit Leonard’s bottom lip a little too hard once but it was perfect, and Jim was perfect, and this was a terrible, awful idea and also maybe the best night of Leonard’s life. 

It was all too new and exciting to last long. This had been building since they were sitting at the bar down on Vega, and even longer for Leonard, as much as he wished he could take his time. He wished he could give Jim everything, spread him out on the bed and kiss every inch of his beautiful skin, kiss every scar from before he met Leonard and every scar from injuries Leonard had healed himself. He wanted to find the places of his body that made Jim shiver and moan and beg for more. 

God, he wanted to hear Jim beg, wanted to have his fingers inside him and hear Jim ask for it in that same low, breathless voice like the first time he said  _ kiss me _ . But neither of them were going to make it that far, judging by the strangled moans coming out of Jim as soon as Leonard got a hand around his cock. A blush traveled up his neck to his cheeks and the tips of his ears and Leonard couldn’t resist following that trail with his mouth while Jim writhed underneath him. He felt like his head was spinning just from the sound, from the thought that Jim was moaning for him,  _ because _ of him. 

And Leonard tried not to think about the fact that this could be a one-time thing and let that ruin it. He ignored the fact that come tomorrow they were probably going to pretend like it never happened, and go back to normal, and he was going to have to sit in Jim’s quarters in the evenings like they always did and see Jim’s bedroom out of the corner of his eye and have to pretend they didn’t have sex in there. He’d have to pretend he didn’t know what Jim sounded like, didn’t know the way he flushed all the way down his neck to his stomach right before he came, the way he looked right into Leonard’s eyes as long as he could, before his orgasm finally crashed through him and he screwed his eyes shut and pressed his head back against the pillows. 

And then it was over, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the wall and listening as Jim’s breathing started to even out again. If he looked at Jim right now, sleepy and flushed and sprawled out in bed, if he laid down next to him and looked into his eyes one more time, this would all be over. Whatever the hell this was. He wouldn’t be able to stop his mouth from forming around the words he’d worked so carefully to keep inside. And Jim would get stiff and awkward and have to explain to him that this was just a hookup, that he didn’t mean it that way.

Leonard looked down at his hands. They were shaking. 

“You can sleep here if you want, you know,” he heard Jim say from behind him, and there it was already. His voice was strained and awkward and almost rehearsed, like he was only offering out of obligation. 

Leonard was so fucking stupid. He may as well have ripped his heart out of his chest on that dance floor and given it right to Jim and spent the rest of the night with a hole in his chest and it would have hurt less than this. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he muttered, trying to sound casual, trying to  _ look _ casual as he stood up and collected his clothes. He hastily pulled them on and made for the door. At this point he was basically running away from Jim, before he did something even  _ more _ stupid, like look back. 

Except--

“See you tomorrow?” Jim asked, voice careful and unsure as if the answer wasn’t an obvious  _ yes _ ,  _ of course _ they were going to see each other tomorrow. 

Leonard turned to look over his shoulder, and Jim looked exactly as he expected, lazy and satisfied and curled up on top of the covers. He stared back at Leonard with that question hanging between them, but all Leonard could think about was how much he wished he could tear his clothes off again and fall into bed next to him, pull Jim into his chest and tell him how much this meant, how long he’d been waiting for this, how perfect Jim was. 

Instead he just nodded, swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

“Course,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

-

If Leonard had known they were going to make a habit of this, he would have done things different the first time. And the second, and the third, and every time after that. He would have lingered in Jim’s quarters, in his bed, hell, even getting dressed and moving to the couch where they used to sit together in the evenings would have made some bit of it seem normal. He would have talked more, not just during the sex itself, but before, and after. He would have at least tried not to take every opportunity to make this new part of their relationship incredibly awkward. 

Instead he made a habit of leaving as soon as the sex ended, of showing up to Jim’s quarters without saying much by way of greeting and mumbling his goodbye on the way out. It only took a week before he had effectively detached the sex from every other aspect of their relationship, which turned out to be an even worse outcome than getting all their feelings mixed up. It just felt like Leonard had two relationships, now: with his best friend who ate lunch with him and sent comms from the bridge when he was bored and was the only person who could make him laugh so hard he snorted, and with the man who looked like his best friend who he had sex with and they just pretended it wasn’t happening. 

If Jim was struggling to compartmentalize this in his head, it sure wasn’t showing on the outside. He looked and talked and acted completely normal outside of his quarters, Leonard never so much as caught Jim giving him an odd look or saying anything that could insinuate what they did the night before. Even when Leonard showed up to his quarters in the evenings, he would greet him like he always did, turning to look at him over the back of the couch, or calling from the bathroom, his usual  _ hey Bones _ , sometimes paired with just a hint of a knowing smile, before he walked right up into Leonard’s space. 

Tonight was no different. They didn’t bother anymore with talking about their day or complaining about work. Leonard couldn’t remember the last time Jim had forced him to sit through some funny holovid he’d found in the ship’s archive, or the last time he’d asked Jim how he was sleeping. These things that used to happen when Leonard came over just sort of fell through the cracks, replaced with Jim’s mouth against his own, his fingers running through the short hair at the back of Leonard’s neck. The path from the door to Jim’s bed was familiar by now, enough that Leonard didn’t really notice they were walking there. Jim’s bed had become familiar, too, the way the smell of him seemed to envelop them there, just like Jim’s arms did when he turned Leonard onto his back, pulled his shirts off, turned them around again. 

This was why he couldn’t put a stop to it, as much as he knew, outside of Jim’s bed, that they were destined to end up in a mess. Here it didn’t seem to matter, time and time again. How could he deprive himself of this? Of the electric feeling of Jim’s skin against his own, the faces he’d make--little smiles Leonard had never seen before, and his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth hanging open and the color in his cheeks--the way they fit so well together. It was almost exactly what Leonard had thought about for years, so close to what he’d imagined that, in the moment, he didn’t notice what was missing. 

“Like this?”

“Yeah,” Jim breathed out. His legs shook and slipped out from around Leonard’s waist as he pushed in deeper, but slower, like Jim had asked. His whole body was shaking, involuntarily, it looked like, it must have felt that good, and Jim started laughing a little bit and so did Leonard. 

He leaned forward and pressed his face against the curve of Jim’s shoulder. It felt intimate, somehow more so than the fact that he’d already been inside him for a few minutes now. And Jim’s arms slowly wrapping around his back felt intimate too. Could he do this again? Could he convince himself that what they shared was real, just to be proven wrong  _ again _ ?

Jim was here, he was real--his hands against Leonard’s back, his legs around his waist, the heat of his body, the soft, breathless, urgent sound of his voice--he was here and he wanted Leonard. Nothing else seemed to matter, so he let it all go. He tried to, at least. 

Things ended the same way tonight as they always did. Jim looked beautiful, ethereal, sprawled out across the bed, his chest heaving and his face still red as he gradually came down from his orgasm. Leonard felt like he was holding his breath, then, propped up on his elbows and watching Jim lie there with his eyes closed, those eyes that could make Leonard do anything. Those eyes that made him stay in Starfleet, every time he thought about quitting, that made him get on this ship and fly out into uncharted space, that could make him give his entire life, his entire heart to Jim. And yet he never seemed to ask even the one small thing Leonard was waiting for all this time. 

As soon as Jim opened his eyes and looked at him, he’d have to go. He’d have to because that was what he did. But it still felt like a small eternity that Jim stayed like that, eyes closed, one hand resting over his chest as his breathing slowed. For a moment Leonard felt infinitely lucky, just for this part of Jim he got to see, no matter the context. And then in the next moment Jim’s eyes blinked open, and he saw Leonard staring, and maybe he knew he’d been staring the whole time. His mouth curved into just a little bit of a smile, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tension flooding in. 

This part was also normal, now. The almost unbearable transition out of bed. Jim looked up at him like he wanted to say something, and Leonard waited, and then he pushed himself up to a seat, over the edge of the mattress, facing the wall. This position was getting familiar, too, in a way that always made Leonard feel sick, to turn his back to Jim like this, after everything he just felt. 

“Bones--” Jim started, in that same, strained voice as every other time before. Leonard couldn’t stand it. 

“Everyone assigned to the away mission on Bracas V needs to be vaccinated this week,” he cut in, rubbing his eyes. His body was still warm and his limbs felt heavy and all he wanted was to lay back down again, but he stood up, instead, and looked for his clothes. 

“Okay,” was all Jim said. 

“It’s just--the vaccine needs ten days.”

“I’m not arguing with you.”

“I know.”

Jim turned over in bed, facing the wall, and stayed like that while Leonard finished getting dressed. Cranky about the vaccine, probably. Leonard almost left without saying anything. This part of the night, after sex when they were slowly shifting back into being friends (who don’t talk about the fact that they have sex) was the worst bit, and tonight it was awkward enough to make Leonard rethink everything all over again. He tried not to look back at Jim, but he did, and he saw his hair all messed up and golden against the pillow, and the freckles across his shoulders like constellations and the scar on the side of his thigh, from jumping a fence back at the Academy, which Leonard had healed himself, and he had to say something, so he said, 

“Come to Medbay tomorrow, I’ll numb the skin before I give it to you, you won’t even feel it.”

“Thanks, Bones,” he replied, barely audible from across the room, and Leonard left, feeling like he did during most of these walks back to his quarters from Jim’s, like their relationship was already fucked up beyond repair, and the worst part was that he knew he was going to do this again. He was elbows-deep in a mess of feelings and miscommunication, and the memory of Jim underneath him constantly intertwined with his thoughts, but so long as Jim kept inviting him over, he would do this again. 


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

Jim’s leg had been shaking up and down, heel tapping on the floor incessantly, ever since he’d sat back down in the Captain’s chair. He hadn’t even bothered to change uniforms. The away mission earlier that day, on Bracas V, had left this one was a little bit torn and covered in blood, but the thought to change never really crossed his mind. 

Ensign Ramsey had lived, of course. She was set to make a full recovery in the Medbay, even with the way her leg had been torn up and twisted and broken so bad that when Jim carried her from the transporter room to Medical she almost passed out from the pain. 

Jim blamed himself. Who the hell else’s fault could it have been? He was the one who’d concluded that the planet was safe and ordered his away team to spread out and catalog information on the terrain. Even though there was no way to know that the native species that lived down there were avid hunters. Two of his officers bit the dust from a tripwire while the third got her leg caught (and practically destroyed) in a metal trap. 

It was his fault. But he was still Captain, and he still had three hours left in his shift and they still had to deliver some medical supplies to a colony on the other side of the star system today and he still had to put all of it in his Captain’s log. He didn’t want to do any of it. All he wanted to do was go down to Medbay and check on Ramsey and say sorry (again) and then hear Bones say that she was going to be fine, that everything was going to be okay. 

Bones, dear god. There was another colossal fuck up that’d been weighing on him for the past few weeks. Ever since that stupid night on Vega when he’d drank too many of those cocktails and couldn’t hold back how lonely he was and nearly let slip about his years-long crush on his best friend--and then proceeded to hit on him in the most disingenuine and unsexy way possible. And the worst part was that it apparently worked. He suggested that the Captain and the CMO hooking up was technically some sort of loophole (which it was. Kind of. Well, it was a grey area) and Bones actually  _ went for it _ and they actually danced in that bar and kissed on the crowded dance floor and fucked in Jim’s quarters. 

The sex was good, because of course it was, but it wasn’t how Jim wanted it to happen and he couldn’t help but be angry at himself over it. He had been in love with Bones for fucking _ years _ . He’d been thinking--dreaming, more like--about the moment they’d get together for so long, and then  _ that _ was how he did it? By calling Bones his fucking loophole? As if it was some sort of anecdotal, last minute,  _ might as well _ idea. Jim had wanted to sweep Bones off of his stupid cranky feet, for fuck’s sake. He’d wanted whatever happened between them to be real and genuine and not some nonsense about avoiding Starfleet regs. 

And now they were in such a mess. They were still hooking up, almost every day after work. Sometimes it seemed like Bones actually wanted to be with him, specifically, like he thought about Jim--every once in a while he looked at Jim in a certain way, or a few words slipped out in the heat of the moment that made him feel like this was actually a relationship that both of them wanted to be a part of, and not some senior-officers-with-benefits bullshit. But then Bones always ran out of the room as soon as it was over, without even turning around like he couldn’t bear to  _ look _ at Jim again, let alone stay in bed with him. 

Jim had tried, that first night, to ask him to stay, but he’d fucked that up too. He’d  _ told _ Bones he  _ could _ stay, which wasn’t the same at all. 

They were good at compartmentalizing at least, meaning their relationship outside of Jim’s quarters didn’t seem to change at all, but that only made things worse, it felt like. It only encouraged that voice in Jim’s head that said Bones didn’t want to fuck  _ him _ , he just wanted to fuck. And if that thought wasn’t upsetting enough on his own, it was always punctuated with the reminder that Jim was responsible for all of this anyway. It had all been his idea. 

Great. 

Now Jim was both angry at himself and also pathetically sad. He wasn’t going to make another trip to Medbay, not like this. He was going to go to his quarters after his shift and change out of his blood-stained uniform and take a shower and get a fucking _ grip _ , and then he was going to go to  _ Bones’ _ quarters and tell him they needed to stop hooking up. It was the least stupid thing to do after a string of increasingly stupid things, and it would break his heart to close off this new part of his relationship with Bones, but to be honest, it was breaking his heart even more when he remembered how one-sided the whole thing was. He never should have started this in the first place. It’s one thing for sex to accidentally lead to feelings, but he was pretty sure he knew, before all of this, that you’re not supposed to initiate a friends-with-benefits relationship when you’re actually in love with your friend. 

But then the doors to Bones’ quarters opened a few seconds after Jim rang the bell at 2300, and Bones was in his pajamas and he looked freshly showered with his hair sticking up a little bit and he had a five o’clock shadow and Jim ignored all the reasons he came here. Seeing Bones like this, after the complete disaster of a day he’d just had, Jim felt a dam burst in his heart--and he wasn’t even sure if that was a good thing--and he stepped inside of Bones’ quarters and took his face in his hands and kissed him. 

He kissed Bones like it was his last chance to make everything feel okay again. 

And Bones led them to the bed, to _ his _ bed, which Jim realized they’d never had sex in before this, and Jim was forced to remember what this was all about. What this was  _ only _ about, for Bones at least. 

He was such an idiot. 

Bones slipped his hands underneath Jim’s shirt and pulled it off in what was becoming an easy, practiced motion, kissing him again as soon as the soft cotton was lifted over his head. The kissing wasn’t helping. Jim wanted to talk. He wanted to talk about the away mission and Ensign Ramsey’s leg and how fucking cartoony it had been to see two officers fall victim to a goddamn tripwire. He wanted to talk about everything, but that wasn’t what they did here. They talked  _ outside _ of the bedroom, over drinks and over dinner and in the corridors when Bones sometimes needlessly walked Jim to the bridge. They didn’t talk in here. 

So he kissed Bones harder instead, deeper, pulling him to settle over Jim like a blanket. And it was good, it was good, until something shifted, like the way the Earth’s surface does, slight and colossal at the same time. And then it wasn’t good, and everything that came next seemed to make it worse. Every touch of Bones’ hands to his skin, every soft, skillful press of his lips and tongue and the gentle grazing of his teeth, the hand that slipped between their bodies to palm at Jim’s cock over his sweats made everything worse because Jim didn’t  _ want  _ this. 

Well, he wanted it. He had before, he knew it was something he wanted, normally. But today wasn’t normal. 

He wondered why he even initiated sex tonight if it was making him feel so bad. Why he’d even come to Bones’ quarters. He must have known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this was where they would end up. And he still rang the bell and came inside. Soon he couldn’t do anything right, his brain filling up with thoughts about how bad he was at this, how he had never changed from when he was younger and he did things he didn’t want. He couldn’t kiss Bones, he didn’t want to anymore. He couldn’t even lie underneath him without squirming uncomfortably. He just wanted this to be over but he didn’t want to tell Bones to stop. He wanted to sink into the mattress and disappear. 

As if he’d read Jim’s mind in that second, or maybe he could tell Jim’s body language had been changing since they got to the bed, Bones pushed himself up on one arm over Jim and looked down at him, and right away he seemed to register that Jim was about five seconds from a full-blown anxiety attack. For the first time, without getting out of bed and without a night’s sleep in between, with Jim still half-dressed, Bones flipped immediately into best-friend mode. 

“I knew something was wrong tonight,” he said, and the sex ended there, and Jim hated how relieved he felt when Bones climbed off of him to sit next to him on the bed instead. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. God, he was ruining everything. He scrubbed his face with his hands. 

“What just happened?”

“I made such a mess,” he mumbled.

“Ramsey’s gonna be fine. Stop blaming yourself for that.” 

This wasn’t what they did here. Jim wasn’t supposed to get emotional right now, he was supposed to wait until after the hookup, after they’d slept it off in separate beds, and casually joke about his issues over breakfast. That was what they did. Jim could hear the sound of those two worlds colliding in between the pounding of his heartbeat. 

“No, everything,” Jim said quietly. “I fucked everything up.”

“What’s wrong with you,” Bones asked, but not in a mean way. He’d asked this question hundreds of times before, always snarky but genuine, sometimes as soon as Jim set foot in the Medbay, but tonight in his bed it was a gentler version of that tone--it was Bones, his best friend, dressed down to his pajamas and still a little flushed on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

Bones leaned back against the wall and looked at him,  _ really _ looked at him, after weeks of always looking away. And Jim couldn’t stop himself either, from taking in the caring, attentive expression on his face, the soft fabric of his pajamas, the little outline of his stomach over his waistband. Jim looked at his white socks, his crossed ankles. He almost wanted to cry because he loved this man, all the way down to his white socks, and in the next few minutes he had no choice but to find out if he ruined their entire relationship, when all he wanted was to be loved by him, tonight. 

“I don’t know,” Jim choked out with a laugh, even though he knew Bones would see right through it. 

In fact, he just rolled his eyes a little bit and shook his head. “I mean it,” he said. 

Jim looked down at the bed, “I don’t know, I just--”

His next words wouldn’t come out. He knew what they could have been, his head was swimming with everything he wanted to say--it had been for weeks--but nothing came out. Jim felt like he was holding his breath. He opened his mouth to try again, when,

“Good  _ god  _ can you take your shoulders down from up around your ears?” Bones interrupted, and before Jim could say anything Bones was scooting forward on his knees. His hands came to either side of Jim’s neck and slid down, firmly, just enough to start to press his shoulders back where they should be. 

_ That _ shut him up for good. Jim could feel that he must have been tensing up like that for hours, ever since the away mission. 

“You’ve had a tension headache all day, haven’t you.” His voice was soft again. Jim felt a lump in his throat. Bones’ hands on his shoulders, pressing down, started to feel so good that he closed his eyes, and when Bones started to massage the tension out he finally sighed and nodded. 

“It’s not just because of Ramsey, okay,” he breathed. “I’ve been freaking out.”

“What is it, Jim. Just tell me.”

“It’s you,” Jim finally forced himself to say. Having his eyes closed made it easier. Bones’ hands stilled for a second before going back to the gentle, kneading massage. He was so close right now. Any time they’d been this close over the past few weeks Jim always met him the rest of the way, closing the last of the distance between them, like he had to, like he’d lose his chance if he didn’t. 

“Do you want to stop having sex?”

“No,” Jim laughed at himself, feeling stupid and a little bit bitter. He had to just do this. There wasn’t going to be a better time. “I still want to have sex with you, okay, I probably will forever. I just didn’t do things right. That’s what I meant when I said I made a mess. You’re the mess.”

“I shouldn’t have left the bar with you that night.”

“No--” Jim opened his eyes now, afraid that Bones was going to be mad, but he didn’t look like it. He wasn’t watching Jim with worry in his face anymore, either. His gaze was focused on his hands on Jim’s shoulders and neck, like Jim’s stupid tension headache was equally, if not more important, than the most serious conversation they’ve ever had about their relationship. 

“Bones, listen--” Jim shrugged Bones’ hands off, which finally made Bones look at him. “What I said about our relationship being a loophole, that was what went wrong. I should have just asked you out like a normal person.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that’s what I want to do. That’s...what I’ve always wanted.”

Bones’ face scrunched up in confusion. “Always?”

“Look, I don’t know exactly  _ since when _ , I just realized at some point that I was in love with--”

Jim cut himself off when Bones’ eyes only got wider, and his eyebrows only pulled together more. It was true, obviously. It had been true since forever, it just felt like the wrong thing to say. 

Bones still wasn’t moving away from him. They were sitting cross legged on the bed, knees to knees, since he’d first moved closer to push Jim’s shoulders down. Now he was thinking it all over, it looked like, with that little wrinkle showing up between his eyebrows. He slid his hand over his jaw, and then looked up at Jim again, talking over his fingers. 

“So it’s not about the fact that I’m the only person on this ship you can fuck.” It was half question, half statement, and the word _ fuck _ at the end almost sounded crude. 

Jim locked eyes with him for a moment before nodding, and guilt bloomed out from his stomach to the rest of his body, because it almost seemed like...it couldn’t be. 

Jim had hurt Bones. Had he hurt him?

“What is it, what’s going on,” he asked, after Bones didn’t seem to react and instead kept that pensive look on his face, the wrinkle between his eyebrows and his hand cupping his jaw, elbow propped up on one knee. 

“I’m trying to imagine how you  _ thought  _ I’d feel after you said that, that you’re surprised I didn’t know you felt the same way about me.”

There were a lot of things he could address in that sentence, and, like usual, Jim chose the worst possible option. 

“What do you mean  _ how I thought you’d feel _ ? How was  _ I _ supposed to feel every time you ran away from me as soon as you came?”

“And what sort of effort were you making in asking me to stay?”

“Look, I did  _ something _ \--I--we wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t said something, even if what I said wasn’t perfect--”

“ _ Wasn’t perfect _ ,” Bones repeated, “You called me a loophole!”

Jim groaned and fell back against the headboard with a thud, covering his face with his hands.

“You could have told me you were offended by that!”

“And then what would you have said?”

“I don’t fucking know--if what I said to you on Vega was so bad why did you still want to fuck me?”

Bones’ jaw dropped at that, and before he could refute it Jim cut in (a little bit louder than he would have liked),

“Are we forgetting that you still fucked me after I called you a loophole?”

“ _ Because I’ve wanted to fuck you for years! _ ” Bones gritted out, and that was the moment when Jim realized how ridiculous this entire argument sounded. Against his better judgement he broke out into laughter. 

At first he heard Bones let out an exasperated sigh, but he couldn’t stop, and then, after a minute or two, Bones sighed again and nudged him with his knee. 

“Okay, enough, you piece of shit. I think you’ve made your point.”

“I’m sorry.” Jim choked around the apology, because he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face or stop himself from breathing out another laugh or two. Finally Bones grabbed him around the waist and pulled him back up from against the headboard. Jim caught himself with his hands on Bones’ chest, and they were there again, knees touching, in each others’ space. Bones was glaring at him but he didn’t mean it, Jim knew he didn’t mean it. 

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah, you better.”

“Do you want me to ask you out again?”

“No,” he said, and his eyes started to soften. 

“What do you want?”

Bones shook his head, and now--now there was just a tiny bit of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He breathed out a long exhale, letting his eyes flutter closed, and then looked right back up at Jim. 

“I want you to stay, tonight. The whole night.”

His answer made Jim feel so many things at once. The lump in his throat, the guilt over what he’d said weeks ago, over never asking Bones to stay the first night like he should have. Turned on--just a little bit. But mostly he just felt this golden warmth, all the way to his fingertips where they splayed out across Bones’ soft cotton shirt. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy. 

“Will you stay?” Bones asked. 

Jim nodded, again and again, because saying  _ yes _ didn’t even seem like enough. He felt so much stronger than just _ yes _ . And Bones’s hand around his waist pulled one more time, just enough to bring their mouths together. 

-

Hours later, Jim woke up on Bones’ couch. He had been drifting in and out, he realized, since they moved here from the bedroom. Everything felt new and familiar at the same time. Jim borrowed pajamas. They replicated dinner. They landed in a pile on the couch and suddenly every conversation topic Jim had held back for the past few weeks came flooding out, every anecdote he forgot to bring up, everything about the mission today, and the missions before today. He talked with his mouth full, he made Bones laugh so much he had to bend over his knees to catch his breath, he played music on the computer, it all felt like how they used to spend nights together. 

And then when Bones cleared the plates away, and scooted closer to him on the couch, reaching for the back of his neck to mindlessly rub the tension out while they kept talking, Jim realized how close they were, again, and he realized he could just turn his head now and kiss Bones in between sentences, without having to move to the bedroom, without having to compartmentalize it--so he did. 

He fell asleep watching a holovid, with his legs stretched across Bones’ lap, and Bones brought one of his hands to rest against the curve of Jim’s hip, not moving it, not sliding underneath his shirt or pulling at his waistband, and of all the ways Bones had touched him in the past month, it was that simple gesture which made him feel like this was all real, and maybe they were going to be okay after all. And he woke up to see Bones passed out on the other side of the couch, his hand still warm on Jim’s side, his head leaning against the cushions in a way he’d definitely complain about in the morning.

Maybe they were going to be even better than okay. Jim sat up, shifted towards the other side of the couch, and gently pulled at Bones until he could guide him, half asleep and grumbling, to lay down on the couch with him. Bones settled on top of Jim like they’d been doing this forever. He tangled their legs together, one of his arms resting across his chest, tucked his face into the curve of his neck and mumbled, 

“Mmh...my neck is all fucked up.”

Jim smiled and pressed a kiss to Bones’ forehead. 

“Why did you let me fall asleep on the couch,” he groaned. 

Jim let his eyes fall closed. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You’re makin a long list for yourself, you know.”

“Shhhh,” he said, “I know.”

_ end.  _


End file.
